themselves to their rightful place in the scheme, as must the masses.” He
extended a warning finger. “But the masses must not make the mistake of
imagining from these considerations that their lot is a harsh or an unjust one.
Indeed, quite the opposite! For, just as the lowlands are sheltered from the
storms that rage in the mountains and nourished by the streams flowing down to
them from above, so the common masses are protected and receive spiritual
nourishment from the Lifemaker through the succession of higher agencies that He
has appointed.”
Rekashoba’s voice took on a harder note as he looked back at Lofbayel. “But a
round world would be incompatible with the sacred translations of the Scribings.
Since the Scribings cannot be questioned, a round world cannot exist.” He waited
a second for his argument to register, and then continued in a louder voice,
“But, more than that, any claim to the contrary must therefore constitute a
denial of the Scribings. And such a denial amounts, in a word, to … heresy!” A
murmur ran round the chamber. Lofbayel clutched weakly at the bar and for a
moment looked as if he was about to collapse. The full penalty in the event of a
charge of heresy being upheld was the burning out of both eyes, followed by slow
dissolution in an acid vat. Horazzorgio’s eyes glinted in gloating anticipation;
the arresting officer had first option to command the execution in the event of
a death sentence. The Council members leaned forward to confer among themselves
in low voices.
Seated behind the officials and scribes, to one side of the chamber, was a
rustic-looking figure, simply attired in a brown tunic of coarse-woven copper,
secured by a heavy, black, braided belt, and a dull red cloak assembled from
interlocking ceramic platelets. Thirg, Asker-of-Forbidden-Questions, drew in a
long stream of nitrogen to cool his overworked emotive circuits and took a
moment to prepare himself. As a longtime friend of Lofbayel, a fellow inquirer
after truth, and one who had enjoyed the hospitality of Lofbayel’s house on many
occasions during visits from his solitary abode in the forest below the
mountains, Thirg had promised Lofbayel’s wife that he would plead her husband’s
case if the trial went badly. Thirg was far from optimistic about his ability to
achieve anything useful, and what he had seen of Rekashoba’s zealousness led him
to fear that the mere act of speaking out in his friend’s defense might well be
enough to make him a marked person in future, subject to constant scrutiny,
questioning, and harassment. But a promise was a promise. Besides, the very idea
of not trying was unthinkable. Thirg braced himself and gripped the edges of his
seat.
Frennelech looked back out over the chamber. “Does the accused have anything to
say before the Council’s verdict is announced?”
Lofbayel attempted to speak, but fear made him incoherent. Frennelech shifted
his gaze to the Court Warden. “One is present who is willing to speak for the
accused,” the Warden said. Thirg took off his cap of aluminum mail, and
clutching it before him, rose slowly.
“Who speaks for the accused?” Frennelech demanded.
“Thirg, a recluse dweller of the forest, who describes himself as a friend of
the accused,” the Warden replied.
“Speak, Thirg,” Frennelech ordered.
The court and the priests of the Council waited. After a slight hesitation, to
find his words, Thirg began speaking cautiously. “Illustrious members of the
High Council and officers of the Court, it cannot be denied that words have been
uttered rashly, which a moment of prudence and wisdom would have left unsaid.
Since truth and justice are the business of the Court, whatever consequences
must lawfully follow, it is not my desire to dispute. But the suggestion of
heresy, I would respectfully submit, warrants further examination if the
possibility of a hasty decision unbecoming of the elders and wisest of Kroaxia
is to be avoided.” He paused to look along the line of faces, and found a
modicum of reassurance that he was being heeded.
“For by its very definition, a heresy, we are told, is a denial of the truths
set forth in the Holy Scribings. But does not a denial require a statement of